My daughter sees a change
of season in the sunset light
outside her bedroom window.
It’s not so obvious here,
the temperature drops a few degrees,
the sun breaks through the morning
clouds a little slower.
Still seasonal shifts seem abrupt these days –
time in general has no gentleness to it anymore.
She has cried more this week,
seasonal flashbacks that trick her body
into thinking the man who left
will be home from work any minute.
Who can say what is the cruelest month?
Who can say, when there are so many?